Once More With Supernatural Feeling
by Cats Kale Bacon and Butts
Summary: With the apocalypse hanging over their heads, not to mention the roles they play, another problem arises for the Winchesters – involuntary bursting into song, the kind that ends in a blaze of glory, minus the encore. Can our favourite co-dependents save the day AND their (love) lives? Destiel & Sabriel. T (because I'm a nervous wreck) for safety and themes. More info inside.
1. Overture & Going Through the Motions

**PLEASE READ, THIS IS OF IMPORT:** this story is inspired by/based off of/uses the fabulous lyrics of the Buffy the Vampire Slayer episode "Once More With Feeling" and is somewhat a mix of wildly AU and crack!fic and I'm not quite sure where to put it. Needless to say it has Supernatural spoilers from seasons one to (I think?) six though it's set somewhere season five but don't quote me on that as the timeline for this is a little screwy but please, just deal with it. It IS slash, with semi-established Sabriel and getting-there Destiel. Don't like, well, that's a shame, but I won't force you to read it at gunpoint. That would be _mighty_ Sarah Palin of me. Da-da da-da da-da, joke!

**Anyway.** Hello! I'm the newbie on the Supernatural bandwagon and just got positively _tidal waved_ by Destiel feels and co-dependency issues and this baby sorta popped into my head and voila here we are! Please feel free to review/leave suggestions/comments/praise/hellfire/existential questions/fireflies/ and I'd be over-the-moon with levels of ridiculous happiness!

**ALSO ALSO:** to avoid confusion, lyrics will generally be grouped together and in italics. It also tends to rhyme. Review or PM with questions about understanding/suggestions on how to make this clearer if it's not. xx

**Disclaimer:** Supernatural belongs to the Gods at CW and Eric Kripke and the writers and a whole other bunch of people I don't know. And the basis of this plot-line belongs to the God Joss Whedon, amen. Most of the lyrics are also still his, with minor adjustments for context. I make no claim to owning anything, I just needed to get these songs outta my head.

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And now, an unprecedented, and one time only event. The Powers That Be in headache-inducing association with Chuck Shirley bring you "Once More, With Supernatural Feeling." Starring the ever apocalypse-averting slash occasionally dying and all time sexy-fying Winchester brothers Sam and Dean. Special Guests include: an Angel in a Dirty Trench Coat, an Old Drunk, one resident Trickster Archangel, a King of Hell (whose not quite king yet but these are merely technicalities), various badass demons, ghosts, and other hob-knobs, and an Extra Special Mystery Guest in this perilous and heart warming roller-coaster of gut-wrenching, belly-clutching, terror-inducing, eyes-burning, cheeks-smarting train-wreck-waiting-to-happen that's probably not suitable for the whole family.

~8~

It was seven am when the curtains rose for the overture and consciousness descended upon the Winchester household. By consciousness, one of course means an abrupt transition from nightmare to wakefulness, often accompanied by a colourful symphony of curses from the eldest of the Winchesters. And by household one of course refers to the quintessential anonymous motel room that has since gained the (very common) title of Current Winchester Abode.

Both occupants of the room rose to consciousness in the strict manner that was of course fundamental to their person. For example, the younger Winchester, not to be mislead by his intimidating size, scrunched his nose, yawned, and stretched his gargantuan limbs. He was quite happy with himself this morning, which may or may not have had anything to do with having his dreams visited by one resident Trickster Archangel. Pulling aside the covers, he made for the bathroom, though not before tossing the quick and casual but thoroughly ingrained customary greeting to his brother.

"Morning jerk."

Said elder Winchester did not hesitate with the knee-jerk, "shut it, bitch." He did not, however, roll away from the door and face Sam in an attempt at hiding the ridiculously obvious post-nightmare expression currently plastered on his face. As was to be expected of one who had spent forty years in––

The continued sounds of Sammy and routine emanating from the bathroom helped shove those thoughts and _don't go there's_ back in their designated boxes. Even with the occasional cognitive assistance of a particular blue-eyed someone who was low on the angel juice, the memories embedded in his mind refused to abandon their throne of self-loathing. He threw back the covers.

Measly showers were had; one gigantor had particular difficulty with the nozzle as it only reached his chest with all the force of a dripping faucet, teeth were brushed, hair was styled with fingers – "you still look like a moose!" – bags were packed, light banter was tossed across the room – "I'm curious, were your eyes closed when you shaved this morning Dean?" "Just because you don't _have_ anything to shave, Samantha" – as the brothers packed their gear and hit the road to close their latest case.

Hours later, night had fallen and evil had risen as Dean Winchester made his way through the moonlit graveyard, strides long with phantom purpose. Sam was back with gorgeous blonde victim (GBV) number one at the old family home she had decided to purchase and protecting her from the murderous and (bleh, really?) cannibalistic family members currently haunting it. Thus Dean was given the assignment of ganking the bones and saving GBV's equally drop-dead (if one would pardon the rather unfortunate pun) sister who was presently tied to a tree in said graveyard as a sacrifice to a cannibalistic god. (They were very ambitious ghosts.)

Somehow, somewhere, music cued him in and before he knew it, Dean Winchester had opened his mouth and started singing.

(Audience, please refrain from gasping too loudly so as to avoid disrupting the flow.)

_Every single night, the same arrangement,_

_I go out and fight the fight._

_Still I always feel this strange estrangement,_

_Nothing here is real, nothing here is right._

Fugly Papa Ghost came out of nowhere but Dean was born ready. He pumped it full of salt with his sawn-off shotgun and moved on before it had even finished dissolving.

_I've been making shows of trading blows,_

_Just hoping no one knows,_

Dean made his way to the four already dug-up graves of the crazy-ass family members – he and Sam had been been rudely interrupted earlier by a sticky-beak rookie cop and all his good intentions. Not to mention the following distractions of GBV no.1 and no.2.

_That I've been going through the motions,_

_Walking through the part,_

Dean leaned over Fugly Papa's grave, shooting Mrs. Fugly, before continuing his salting and burning of Mr. Fugly. One down, three to go.

_Nothing seems to penetrate my heart!_

The flames illuminated Dean's face with an ironic mixture of demonic shadows and holy light.

_I was always brave and kind of righteous, _

_Now I find I'm wavering._

Dean moved towards Mama Fugly's grave only to be blocked by said bitch and her daughter, Grudge Wannabe.

_Crawl it out your grave you'll find this fight just,_

_Doesn't mean a thing._

He managed to blow the Mrs. away before Grudge Wannabe sent him flying to the hallowed earth with no air left in his lungs. He watched as her mouth twisted into some remnants of a smirk before she too joined in, _he ain't got that swing._

Dean rolled his eyes, _thanks for noticing._

Mama Fugly reappeared, joined by her son the Spoiled Brat from Hell, and together the three of them went full High School Musical.

_He does pretty well with things from hell,_

_But lately we can tell,_

_That he's been going through the motions,_

_Faking it somehow,_

Taking full advantage of this, Dean hauled himself up, brushed himself off, and proceeded to salt and burn Grudge Wannabe and Spoiled Brat from Hell, who departed with one final _he's not even half the guy he… Ow _as he burned up.

_Will I stay this way forever?_

_Sleep walk through my life's endeavor?_

Pulling a knife from his leather jacket, Dean severed the rope binding GBV no.2. She smiled, a full smile of Colgate pearly whites, and stepped forwards with a seductive swing of her hips, _how can I repay…?_

But Dean Winchester continued walking with a muttered, _whatever_ towards the large stone monument above Mama Fugly's grave. GBV no.2 flounced off into the darkness.

Last one. _I don't want to be, _

He climbed up the stair-like ridges on the side of the monolith and clutched briefly at his chest with the words.

_Going through the motions,_

_Losing all my drive._

Dean began pouring a healthy dose of salt and kero onto the bones.

_I can't even see,_

_If this is really me,_

At the last minute, Mama Fugly popped up, and with a snarl of rage reached with claw-like fingers for Dean's throat.

_And I just want to be,_

He dropped the match onto her bones…

_Alive!_

And Mrs. Fugly burned up to smoke and ashes, her dying scream nothing more than an echo in the dark.

~8~

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So what did we think? Yay/Nay? I have more up my sleeve so if you guys don't like, let me know and if you do DEFINITELY let me know. I await your verdicts!

xx


	2. I've Got a Theory & Clowns & Together

Wow! Thanks so much to all who alerted! You guys are awesome! And to Torimiko, thank you so so much for your review, I literally squealed! Anyway, second instalment here! Disclaimers the same, have only changed some of The God's lyrics to fit with context. Slight borrowed dialogue from BTVS, but again altered for my boys. Also, I don't have a 'Beta' (I think they're called?) so all mistakes are my own.

Enjoy! xx

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~8~

The bell on top of the diner door dinged dimly.

"So, any new cases?" Dean said as simultaneously sat down at the booth with Sam and flagged a passing waitress. Said waitress promptly flicked her hair and sashayed over to him, all plump lips and curvaceous hips, which to Sam's surprise Dean either didn't notice (impossible as Dean seems to have a homing device specifically set for sexual advancements) or ignored completely (also impossible as Dean is, well, Dean.)

"What can I get for you, handsome?" She could've been wearing her tracksuit for all the attention Dean gave her. That's not to say he was rude. Most certainly not – the Winchester brothers did not do rude – frustrated, sleep-deprived, and irritated yes, but not rude.

Thus, Dean merely replied with, "two coffees, one black with no sugar, and a bacon cheese burger, thanks." He smiled politely then turned back to Sam without so much as a wandering or appraising eye for her (Sam _had _to admit) rather appealing if buxom figure. Looking flustered and mildly affronted, the waitress moved on.

Sam shook himself from his thoughts and was about to answer Dean's query when the distinct flap of wings signaled the arrival of an angel. Castiel appeared in a small gust of air seated next to Dean. "Hello Dean," he turned his head with that same owlish concentration and nodded in greeting, "Sam."

Sam tried not to read too much into the angel's obvious favouritism.

What followed seemed to be some sort of silent communication only available between a Righteous Man and the Angel that Pulled Him Out of Hell. Sam tried counting but soon gave up when the comedic aspect wore off and the awkward third-wheel effect became so bad it was like finding yourself naked and sandwiched into a seven-minutes-in-heaven closet that was already occupied and having a Tourette's tic that equated to screaming an innuendo every two minutes and twenty-seven seconds – times about fifty.

It was then that the waitress resurfaced with the two coffees and Dean's cheeseburger. Sam briefly marveled at her efficiency but a quick glance around the small town diner revealed barely three other patrons bar themselves (barely as one seemed to have fallen asleep into his pancakes.) She spared a glance for Dean and Cas then back again, seeming to connect the dots, and Sam could only think _join the cue_. She placed one coffee – the black one with no sugar – and the plate in front of Dean and the other cup in front of Cas, spared a brief, longing glance at Dean, and returned to her post. Dean immediately dug in, waitress all but forgotten, and simply reiterated his question to Sam around a mouthful of cheeseburger, only to be distracted by the resident socially awkward angel.

"Dean, you understand I do not require food or beverages, correct?" Sarcasm or exasperation? Sam could never quite tell.

"Yeah Cas, but it's coffee. Just because you don't need something doesn't mean you can't want it. And vice versa." The two shared another of their deep stares before Cas _actually picked up the cup_ and took a hesitant sip. Sam's mouth fell open with an audible pop. Castiel watched the cup with a concentration fit for one analysing a Van Gough not your average cup of Joe.

"Uh, cases. No, nothing Dean." Sam scrambled to get back to some semblance of Winchester Normal. Discussing cases was normal, meaningful stares between his brother and an Angel of the Lord was not. Yes, Sam saw the hypocrisy in that statement and he promptly ignored it. "It seems everything is actually normal for once. Which, in our life is pretty rare, so perhaps that in itself is worth investigation."

Dean swallowed, took a sip of his coffee, then, casually as you like, as if remarking about weather said, "so," he paused briefly, "neither of you guys burst into song last night?" He took another shark bite then simply looked at Sam and Cas and back again.

Sam blanched before spluttering, "I thought it was just me and Katie!" Sam had refused to follow Dean's method of simply GBV no.1 and no.2.

Cas' voice went unheard by incredulous Sam and amused if slightly perturbed Dean. "I sang, but I was visiting Orpheus and he had his lyre so…"

Eyes wide, Sam's hands told the story more than his mouth, "one minute we were just talking and then the next–"

"Like you were in a musical." Dean finished.

"That would explain the huge backing orchestra I couldn't see and the sudden need to vocalise dramatically." Cas murmured to no one in particular looking with a furrowed brow at his hands.

"Yes!" Sam continued as if Cas hadn't spoken, "Everything rhymed and there were harmonies and then a _literal_ dance around the ghosts attacking us, of which come to think of it, they joined in too."

"It is disturbing," Cas said, finally inserting himself back into the brother's conversation.

"What did you sing about?" Sam looked with genuine curiosity at Dean, head canted to the side and everything. Castiel was rubbing off on him.

Dean took his time swallowing his last mouthful of burger. "I don't remember, but it seemed perfectly normal."

Sam considered himself pretty good at reading people, and reading his brother was like reading his own face, so it didn't take a genius to know Dean was lying. It did make him question why. Unfortunately he missed his opportunity.

"But disturbing. It is of great import that we discover the nature of this curious phenomenon before it becomes dangerous." Cas spoke with deep resolution.

"How could this get dangerous?" Sam wondered.

"Because it always does, Sammy." Dean murmured, voice unexpectedly serious in what seemed such a frivolous situation.

"Don't call me Sammy. Fine, well I suppose we should hit the books then? I mean there's _gotta_ be something out there or at least someone who has a vague inclination of–"

Without warning, Cas leant closer to the two men, elbows on the table and tie uncomfortably close to his coffee, and began singing with a voice much like his speaking one except intensified to angelic levels of swoon-worthy.

(Ladies, please refrain from sighing and melting into puddles of fangirling goo.)

_I've got a theory,_

_That's it is a demon._

_A dancing demon? _

_No, something is not right there._

Dean clapped Cas on the shoulder and smiled.

_I've got a theory, _

_Some kid is dreaming,_

_And we're all stuck inside his wacky Broadway nightmare_.

Dean finished with jazz hands. Sam leaned toward them both and ran a hand through his hair.

_I've got a theory we should work this out,_

Dean and Cas joined in, throwing surreptitious looks over the shoulders at the other scarce diner occupants.

_It's getting eerie,_

_What's this cheery singing all about?_

Dean's face brightened.

_It could be witches!_

_Some evil witches!_

But at Sam's look of _really Dean _it clicked.

_Which is ridiculous, cause this doesn't feel personal,_

_With hex bags in our room and sigils on our ribs, _

_And I'll be over here. _

Slightly dejected with his inadequate theory, Dean held his coffee in his hands, breathing it in, and could practically see the moment the light bulb went off above his brother's head.

_I've got a theory, they could be clowns!_

Coffee halfway toward his lips, Dean merely stared at Sam as if he'd grown a second head. Shaking his own, he turned to Cas who began, _I've got a the– _

Only to be cut off by Sam who stood with one giant leg on the table and proceeded to air guitar. Roving spotlights came from nowhere and the music abruptly changed to hard rock.

_Clowns aren't just funny like everybody supposes,_

_They've got them cartoon feet and huge red noses!_

_And what's with all the make-up?_

_Why do they need to cover their faces in so much anyway?_

_Clowns! _

_Clowns! _

_It must be clowns!_

Sam noticed the looks from both Dean and Cas, and indeed a few of the patrons and mumbled, _or maybe fairies?_

_I've got a theory we should work this fast,_ Castiel sang and turned grave and slightly reproachful eyes to Sam who looked uncomfortable, and joined in with, _because it clearly could get serious before it's passed._

Dean finished his last mouthful of coffee and burger and regarded his brother and his angel before singing.

_I've got a theory, it doesn't matter._

_ What can't we face if we're together?_

_ What's in this place that we can't weather?_

_Apocalypse?_

_We're already there._

_The same old trips,_

_Why should we care?_

Sam smiled at his brother and for the first time in a long time the smile met his eyes. He harmonised with his Dean.

_What can't we do if we get in it?  
We'll work it through within a minute._

Together they stood, as brothers, as warriors, as friends, as those same two young boys who travelled around so long ago just wanting to make a difference.

_We have to try,  
We'll pay the price!  
It's do or die,_

Dean grinned, _hey, I've died more than twice._

The brothers swapped light punches in the shoulder, voices a harmony of Dean's depth and Sam's smoothness, _what can't we face if we're together?_

Cas murmured _what can't we face _as he too rose to stand with the brothers, a soldier, a warrior, a brother, a rebel; wayward yet found in this niche of misfits he'd aligned himself with.

Dean clapped Castiel on the shoulder again as he and Sam sang, _what's in this place that we can't weather?_

Cas looked from Sam then to Dean and regarded his face intently,_ if we're together…_

Team Free Will at it's finest. Dean, Sam, and Cas looked at each other, Dean with a triumphant smile on his face that slowly spread to Sam and Cas, _there's nothing we can't face._

Sam sighed then slumped back down into his seat, _except for clowns._

~8~

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So, what did you think? Please share your thoughts/suggestions/questions/Buddhist proverbs! Next chapter should be up soon, reviews help my upload rate! ;) Thanks for your support guys! xx


	3. Under Your Mojo

Another chapter and _oh so quick_ I might add! :) Anywho, thanks to all who alerted last chapter! And thank you to rrudnero who reviewed, you give me hope that maybe my story ain't so bad! And I'm glad they made you laugh! I thought peeps might think them a little silly! :)

Onwards!

Erm, mild warnings for this chapter. I don't know how ahem _unsullied_ y'all are so this _might_ be pushing towards an M in the figuratively-speaking-not-outright-sex-but-pretty-clear-despite-metaphors-yada-yada. I'm just nervous so if it's not _that bad_ that it would need an M, then awesome! And if you wouldn't have even _got_ the metaphor without this warning then great! Anyway, it was just to be clear for those who have weak hearts and innocent eyes that it gets a bit (figuratively) hot n heavy.

Disclaimer same as before, lyrics have been changed, not out of disrespect for the God Joss Whedon, but merely so it makes sense in my context!

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~8~

Dean face-planted the ancient text in front of him. "I think my brain's gonna dribble out of my ears," he mumbled into the dusty pages.

After the diner fiasco, Sam, Dean, and Cas had come across a woman singing to a parking inspector about how getting a ticket was unfair, how she swore when she parked that hydrant wasn't there, and how she wasn't wearing underwear. It was like a never-ending parade down the street: two young lovers dancing a ballet, three street-sweepers doing the Dick Van Dyke, and a man holding his dry-cleaning proclaiming Broadway Style "they got the mustard out!" After that, and also the report of a man burning to death under 'mysterious circumstances' that just _screamed_ supernatural, they knew it was time for a Team Free Will pow-wow. They'd made it to Bobby's with only two minor musical pit stops.

"Has that boy gone and gotten himself possessed by a drama queen or summit?" Bobby rumbled as he walked back into the room carrying another weighty volume.

Cas frowned slightly, "Dean has an anti-possession tattoo Robert, it would be impossible for–– Oh, sarcasm, yes?"

"Idjit," was the only response.

"I have an idea. I'll be right back." Sam murmured distractedly.

Cas barely spared a glance and Bobby just dismissed him with a vague "call if you need" in favour of the monster of a book in front of him. Dean, however, watched Sam leave with a knowing suspicion.

~8~

Sam made his way through the ocean of broken cars, far away from the house but with it still in sight, and glared at the sky. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he began to pray.

"Gabriel, I need to speak with you. It's really important so please don't ––"

"Well hey there Sammy."

Sam launched forth. "This is your doing isn't it? The singing and dancing and everything. Look Gabe, I know you like to joke and everything but don't you think combustion via conga line is a bit much?"

Gabriel opened his mouth to speak but Sam was on a roll.

"And these people were innocent! Ordinary, normal, nothing sinister or worth this. No _just deserts._" Sam sighedheavily, "Come on Gabe, I thought you were passed this! You even told me you'd quit screwing around! So why, Gabe? Why now?"

The Archangel merely regarded Sam, arms crossed over his chest, amused expression barely masking the brief flashes of hurt beneath. "This is new, being accused of something I didn't actually do."

"I just don't –– wait, what? You mean this 'funky town' thing isn't you?"

Dark and penetrating eyes locked with Sam's and Sam had to resist the overwhelming urge to look (cough, _run_) away. Being the giant moose he was, he sometimes forgot that the puny guy was an _Archangel_ and could smite him with a click of his rather talented fingers. _Bit of a wayward thought there, Winchester_.

"No, Sam. Not me." Gabe's whole demeanor changed, the serious sincerity once again became light-hearted and bouncing 5-year-old as he said, "Though I'm ashamed I didn't think of it first. This is comedic brilliance!"

They stood there for a moment, Sam scratching the back of his neck sheepishly and looking anywhere but at Gabriel who was looking more and more like the cat that ate _all_ the canaries by the second.

"I'm sorry Gabe. To just go and accuse you like that, I didn't even think. I'm sorry."

"Don't worry bout it Sasquatch, I would've thought it was me too. Definitely took a few notes from my book. Looks like I've got quite the fan."

"Still Gabe, I just ––"

"Enough Sammy! I've forgiven you. You don't need anything else to be guilty about," Gabriel gave him a small smile, a real smile. Sam's heart warmed significantly.

"I never thanked you, you know," Sam murmured, moving closer to the angel.

Gabriel's pupils widened and his breath quickened. Dad_dammit_! _Play it cool, Gabe!_ "Thanked me? For what, you great big lump?"

And then Samuel Winchester opened his mouth and began singing _to_ the angel and Gabriel was pretty sure he'd never heard a simultaneously more beautiful and arousing sound in his entire existence.

(Hold onto your hearts, ladies and gents, because with this song

you're in definite danger of losing them. You also might want to hold

your significant others a tad tighter, cause you might lose them too.

WARNING: lyrics may cause eternal sexual frustration.)

_I lived my life in shadow,_

_Never the sun on my face._

_It didn't seem so sad though,_

_I figured that was my place._

Gingerly, Sam took Gabriel's hand and pulled him forward just as the clouds parted and the sun shone down.

_Now I'm bathed in light,_

_Something just isn't right._

Pointing at him but smiling, Sam slowly backed away from Gabriel, who couldn't help the grin worming its way across his face in return.

_I'm under your mojo,_

_How else could it be,_

_I'd feel ok, being me?_

_It's magic I just know,_

_How you set me free,_

_Brought me out so easily._

Sam gestured for Gabriel to follow him as he led them through the broken bodies of the cars in the salvage yard.

_I saw a world disenchanted,_

_Demons and blood everywhere._

_I always took for granted,_

_I was the only one there._

Apparently finding what he was looking for, Sam grabbed Gabriel's hand and pulled him towards an old Ute with a large tray. Gabe looked at him quizzically until Sam inclined his head toward the tray.

_But your powers roam,_

_Finding and bringing me home._

The devilish grin found it's way to Gabe's lips once more and before Sam could blink he'd snapped his fingers and flown them onto the back of the Ute, but not before adding some pillows and blankets. Sam let out a brief laugh before he continued his song.

_I'm under your mojo,_

_Nothing I can do,_

_You just took my soul with you._

Both lying on their backs, the two watched the sky above them. The cotton clouds meandered languidly in the warm sunlight. Gabe turned on his side and watched Sam before slinking an arm up and around his chest. Sam's eyes crinkled with his smile.

_You worked your charm just so,_

_Finally I knew,_

_Everything I dreamed was true._

Gabriel knew, felt it deep in his Grace. Throbbing, burning, and golden, like an internal sun. The need to be closer, so much closer. Using his angelic grace, he blinked out and then back into the mortal plane, this time lying on top of Sam, their bodies aligned _oh so deliciously_ and perfectly. It felt like balance had been restored to the earth; like that happy ending was just in reach instead of out of it. And speaking of…

_The moon and the tide,_

_I can feel you inside._

Sam tried to hide the hitch in his voice and failed miserably.

_I'm under your mojo,_

_No more tricks or lies,_

_Want you, don't you realise?_

Their eyes met, a collision of chocolate and honey wrapped in skin and grace and humanity and _heat_.

You are so beautiful – the thought was mutual.

_I pulse with every blow,_

_Lost in your dark eyes_

_Spread beneath the crystal skies_

Drenched in sunlight and sweat, an Archangel and an Abomination were reduced to raw and needing bodies vibrating with the beating of their hearts, in sync and inseparable.

_You make me complete_

_You make me complete_

_You make me complete_

_You make me ––_

~8~

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Thoughts? Queries? Please let me know! I'd love to hear from you guys, about anything really. My story, the songs, metaphysics..

xx


	4. I'll Never Tell

Hello again lovelies! Another one because I like you all so much! Same disclaimer applies. My responses to you guys are in the end A/N xx

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~8~

"He's up to something an' has been for a while. Did you see how his face got all squirrely as he just up and left? I'm telling you Cas, there's something going on with Sam. I don't like it."

When no response came, not even Cas's newfound sarcastic tongue, Dean turned from his vigil by the door to find Castiel simply staring into space.

"Cas?" Nothing. Not a peep.

Dean's loose-canon temper did not handle it well.

"Cas, are you even _listening_ to me?" Castiel may as well have been deaf for all the attention he paid Dean, which to Bobby practically screamed _Doomsday_ seeing as paying attention to Dean was the only thing the goddamn angel ever did.

With one final unsuccessful attempt at getting Cas' attention, Dean stalked across the room and roughly grabbed him by the lapels of his coat.

"Listen here _angel boy_ I'm tying to tell you something ––" and just like that, Dean was falling through the air clutching nothing as the angel vanished. Dean's seething was well on its way to exploding now. "Damn you and your feathery ass, I swear to _god_ I'll ––"

"That's _enough_ boy!" Bobby roared. "Take a walk. I don't wanna see your ugly mug back here until you've cleared that teeny melon of yours, you got that? Good. Now git!" With a final glare that could probably melt flesh, Dean stormed out, all clenched fists and heavy boots as he slammed the door behind him so hard it shook on its hinges.

"Those two have more sexual tension than Mr. and Mrs. Smith," a British voice came from behind him.

"This just ain't my day. Bloody angels an' Winchesters an' now demons," Bobby grumbled under his breath. To the demon he said, "whaddya want Crowley?"

"Come now, is that the _only_ greeting I get? An' here I was thinking we were closer than that."

A famous Singer glare was the only response he got.

"I assume your strife is with the co-dependent morons and their angel counterparts? Or is there another sore spot for Replacement Papa Bear?" The demon grinned smugly, all white teeth and wicked eyes.

"You shut your dam demonic mouth or I'll pour some salt down yer throat, hear me? You don't know squat."

More and more the demon had been hanging around – mainly to save his pitiful ass from all the hellfire heading his way – and then simply swanning off to whatever hole he crawled out of. It was grating on Bobby's very last nerve, especially given their recent history involving a deal and a bloody camera phone. He cleared his throat and turned away from the demon, mumbling sourly to himself.

And once again he was pulled from his thoughts by a British voice – only this time it was singing.

(The following vividly vintage pastiche [that'll never be a pop hit]

requires a certain level of discreetness due to its sensitive nature.)

_This is the man that I plan to just strangle,_

_What a swine._

Crowley rolled his eyes and made his way towards Bobby but sang outward, as if there were only three walls, like there was no fourth wall…

_My claim to fame should be to maim and to mangle,_

_King of Hell, that's why!_

His posture slumped slightly and he gestured to Bobby.

_But now just look at this,_

_The name I've made I've trade to assist._

_Don't you see the trouble is ––_

The demon's eyes widened minutely and his lips pressed together.

_I'll never tell._

Bobby _hrumphed_ and crossed his arms and sang with a voice roughened with hard alcohol and the life of a hunter yet still pleasant.

_He really should run, my nerves down to one,_

_Frustration an'…is that lace?_

His arms fell to his side and his eyes widened as yes, the handkerchief the demon had just retrieved was_ edged_ in bloody _lace_.

_Lurks in the night when I'm right out of sight,_

_Waste of space!_

The two shared a brief glare that said everything that wasn't sung.

_I just want him to go,_

_The hate we've known will only grow._

_There's just one thing that ––_

Bobby's arms were once again across his chest, tightened.

_No. I'll never tell._

Both of them looked away awkwardly and sang _cause there's nothing to tell._

What followed was a tennis match of words. Back and forth across the room, insults flew with melodic and rhyming humour.

(Suggestions for audience: try not to laugh too hard, it

inhibits one's ability to read when one shakes with giggles.

Side note: normal is Crowley, dashes are Bobby, bold is both.)

_He snores _

_- He wheezes -_

_Say 'cleaner' and he freezes_

_- He wears a pair of tweezers in his pocket side -_

_He sulks _

_- He sleazes -_

_He doesn't know what 'please' is _

_- He's seen my single malt whiskey and he's started to bribe -_

**_ We really should be wary_**

_He doesn't think I'm scary _

_- He thinks I'm ordinary -_

_His toes are hobbit hairy _

_- Thank god it's only temporary -_

_But it's all very well _

_- Cause god knows -_

**_ I'll never tell_**

_My lips are sealed _

_- I take the fifth -_

_Nothing to see _

_- Move it along -_

**_ I'll never…Tell._**

Afterwards, when they had blustered their way through red-faced and shifty-eyed splutterings of "my toes are _not _'hobbit hairy'" and "this lace is _vintage_," they agreed to never ever, under no circumstances – be they torture or otherwise – _ever_ tell the Winchesters.

~8~

* * *

So what did you think? Hope y'all liked it! Lemme know! And was the format ok? Could you guys follow along ok? I tried doing like underlined is Bobby, Crowley is this, both is that, but for some reason ff kept wiping my changes. So is it worth it or next time when there's simultaneous singing should I just put their names? It's hard writing simultaneous stuff!

rrudnero: Thank you and I'm glad you like them! And good, coz I've never written Sabriel before so I was panicking just a wee bit!

Avalonmyst: Oh wow thank you! I am deviating from the BTVS ep but trust me, the angst is not far away haha!

ll Kairi ll: I'll leave that to your imagination! ;) Glad you liked and laughed! Humour writing is new for me! I get the Sammy thing. In my head it's the same, only Dean is allowed to call Sam Sammy, and usually Sam would've been all "don't call me Sammy," after Gabe said it but the kid was sort of on a roll accusing Gabe. That's just how it played out in my head anyway :)

Niamhrmsmith94: Yay haha! The chapters are kinda short but that's seems to be just how they come out. I feel a bit like a ship tossed on the ocean coz these characters just seem to take control! :) Thank you for checking me out anyway, even though I'm a WIP, which is a work in progress, yes? Still getting up on the lingo! But thank you :)


	5. Rest In Peace

Bit of a wait there guys, sorry. I just kinda lost momentum. Anyway, here's another chapter (five?) so I hope ya'll enjoy it! Please let me know your thoughts or any constructive criticisms? Thanks!

Disclaimers the same. Um, don't think there's any salacious content in this one. Oh, just angst. Buckets and buckets of it.

* * *

~8~

Dean's thunderous footsteps pounded the earth as he marched through the vehicle graveyard. In his haze of anger, he had no idea just how far he'd come until when he glanced over his shoulder he could no longer see Bobby's. Growling in frustration, he approached the no-hope beat up old pick-up before him. Miraculously, a crow bar lay discarded and forgotten on the ground. A broken smile, almost a snarl, slashed its way across his lips.

Later he would feel particularly guilty about what happened to that car.

He didn't know how long he had been mercilessly pummeling into it before the sound of wings rang out over the din of metal beating metal. But he didn't stop.

He didn't realise he was crying, hot and stinging tears that burned their way down.

He kept going, he didn't stop, couldn't stop until that all to familiar "hello Dean" finally dragged him from his raging fury. He breathed deeply, trying to calm the furious beating of his heart. Letting the crowbar rest at his side, he finally spoke, his voice hoarse with emotion and exhaustion. But he didn't face _him_. He couldn't. "What do you want, Cas?"

The silence was thick and heaving, like swimming through syrup and trying to breathe.

"Dean, look at me." Dean heaved a sigh and closed his eyes. His angel was impossible. _And intoxicating_–– No. Don't go there. He was not his. Never was and never would be. He had to accept it.

He turned and faced the angel, and immediately wished he hadn't. Eyes like the fucking _ocean_ threatened to drown him, that furrowed brow of _real _concern, and those _goddamn_ _lips_ for crying out loud. Obviously the universe was _trying_ to kill him.

Castiel raked his eyes across Dean's face, cataloguing every shadow, bruise, and tear track. Bitter and biting, the raw pain Dean was trying _so hard _to hide in his eyes nearly had Castiel flinching.

"What do you _want_, Cas?" Dean repeated and the silent _from me_ hung heavily in the air between them. "Coz I, I just can't _do_ this Cas. I mean, you come to me in dreams, you stay with me, you keep the dark at bay, I mean _fuck_ Cas, you pulled me outta Hell! And I just––" Cas merely stared at him, his _fucking_ _adorable_ bird-brain head tilt in full swing and Dean just couldn't stand it anymore. He would give anything, _everything_ to just wrap himself around the angel, envelop him and be enveloped, never let go. But he couldn't. He was a monster. Famine was right – he wasn't anything anymore.

For the second time in as many days, Dean Winchester found himself singing.

(WARNING: Buckets for angsty/sexually frustrated/

goDDAMNITJUSTBETOGETHER creys may be needed.)

_I died, so many years ago,_

A part of him was mortified that the lyrics were actually coming out of his mouth but another was relieved. These had to be sung because they would never be said.

_But you can make me feel,_

_Like it isn't so._

That doesn't mean he didn't cringe a little bit. Looking hard at the angel in front of him, he remembered the conversation they had once upon a lifetime ago on some benches at a playground. The angel had doubts way back then.

_And why you've come to be with me,_

_I think I finally know,_

_mmm-mmm._

As Dean turned away from the growing storm in Cas' eyes, casually tossing the crowbar several feet away, Castiel's voice caught his heart and stopped his step. For a moment, he couldn't breathe.

_You're scared, ashamed of what you feel,_

Cas murmured as he followed Dean's stuttering footsteps.

_And you can't tell the ones you love,_

_Afraid they wouldn't deal._

Right behind him now, Cas practically _felt_ the heat coming off Dean, and he barely resisted the urge to inhale the enthralling scent that was Dean Winchester – leather, spice, whisky, mint, earthy, and something distinctly _human_ and _irrational_ and _illegally irresistible_. Dean tensed, hard muscles locked beneath smooth skin (perfect for his tong– _no_, not the time) as his lips brushed Dean's ear as he sang.

_Whisper in an angel's ear,_

_It doesn't make it real._

Dean could almost feel every phantom edge of the angel. But he couldn't and so he wouldn't. Dean shook off Cas' presence, leant against the old pick-up that he had undoubtedly made beyond irreparable, and folded his arms defensively across his chest.

_That's great, but I don't want to wanna play_

_Cause being with you touches me, more than I can say_

_And since I'm only dead inside, I'm saying stay away!_

_And let me rest in peace!_

Suddenly, Dean leapt from the side of the broken body of the car to the top of it, vaguely noticing the hissing of tires and the crunching of glass and the whine of metal as he took and aggressive stance on its roof and sang almost violently.

_Let me rest in peace,_

_Let me get some sleep,_

_Let me take my love and bury it in a hole six-foot deep._

_I can lay my body down but I can't find my sweet release,_

_So let me rest in peace!_

Castiel circled the pick-up, trying to hold Dean's eyes but every time they would evade his gaze, as if seeing into his eyes he would be able to understand. Castiel's next lines were thus a touch sarcastic.

_You know, you got a willing slave,_

_And you just love to play the thought,_

_That I might misbehave._

He came full circle, once again standing before Dean, and pointed at him.

_But 'til I do, I'm telling you,_

_You deserve to be saved!_

_Let it rest in peace!_

Shifting out and back into the mortal plane, now standing behind Dean once more though this time on the pick-up, his lyrics would've sounded like a lover's murmur had it not been a song.

_I know, I should go,_

_But I follow you like a man possessed._

_There's a traitor here beneath my breast,_

_And it hurts me more than you've ever guessed,_

_If my heart could beat more, it would break my chest,_

_I'll squash it down; I'll do my best,_

_I'll leave you be and_

The two now stood back to back on the ever-worsening pick-up, simultaneously singing their lines and breaking their hearts.

(Though the audience would normally be able to successfully

dictate whose side is whose, one takes pity on those who have OTP

creys in their eyes and quietly points out left is Dean and right is Castiel.)

_Let me rest in peace - Let you rest in peace_

_Let me get some sleep - Let you get some sleep_

_Let me take my love and bury it - I'll take my love and bury it_

_In a hole six-foot deep - In a hole six-foot deep_

_I can lay my body down - I can lay my vessel down_

_But I can't find my sweet release - But I can't find my sweet release_

_Let me rest in peace - Let you rest in peace_

_Why won't you - I have to_

_Let me rest in peace - Let you rest in peace_

The sudden _whoosh_ as the pick-up collapsed in on itself in an explosion of glass and air served as several things that happened at once: a dramatic exit for one Angel in a Trench Coat, a final crescendo to an emotionally driven alternative-rock duet, and another heartache of many in the relationship between an Angel of the Lord and a Righteous Man.

No one was quite sure who was hurt more: the angel, the human, or the audience.

~8~

* * *

There we go, another chapter down! Things are gonna heat up a bit more now, so stay tuned! Updates should be a lot more regular now so please stick with me! :)


	6. Standing and a Sasquatch Lament

I _did_ say updates would be sooner, did I not? And lookie here, an _extra _long chapter for you guys! All that yummy angst and co-dependency and homoerotic subtext, just for you! Don't say I never do anything for you guys. I slaved away over this, so I hope ya'll like it!

Oh I still have no beta and add my terrible editing skills, all mistakes are minesies!

Disclaimers always the same. No extra blasphemous warnings. Oh, some lyrics have been altered for content! On with the show! ;)

* * *

~8~

Sam strolled back into the house blissed out and utterly unable to get rid of the giddy smile currently taking over his face. Of course, the first law of the Winchester handbook was _not_ to be happy.

"And just _where_ have you been, huh?" Dean practically growled from the kitchen. Sam's feet stuttered to a hesitant stop. The younger hunter's usually pin-point senses were currently overridden by Gabriel and thus he could neither see the way the air practically crackled with tension around Dean nor that he did not have any chance of _not_ making it worse. Once Dean was set on a fire and brimstone worthy tantrum there was no stopping him. Sam was pretty sure that was where Newton's "immovable object and unstoppable force" idea came from.

But, you couldn't say he didn't try. "I was just speaking with Gabriel. He says–"

Dean snorted with disgust. "You just up an' leave to go talk to just another dick with wings, no explanation or anything. This is _just_ like Ruby." He shook his head as rage filled Sam's eyes.

"How dare – Gabe is _nothing_ like _her_! Just because you have serious _man issues_ with Cas doesn't mean you get to just walk in on my happiness and –"

"_Man _Issues? Don't you put this on me. This has _nothing _to do with me. This is all about you and your problem with responsibility!" Dean spluttered indignantly, vein pulsing rather disturbingly in his forehead.

"Responsibility! Responsibility for what?" Sam sneered, "The apocalypse? News flash Dean, I couldn't have done it without you!"

Dean crushed the hurt, the excruciating agony that ripped through his chest like Hellhounds claws, and settled for the more bearable fury coursing through his veins like fire.

"But if you had just _listened_ –

"Why? Why, when you never listen to me? I am done, Dean. Done. Done with you, with your shit, with everything. Find me when you're ready to listen." With a final determined gaze Sam turned and left. Not once did he look back. Not once did Dean look away, even when he was out of sight, and the sound of the bedroom door slamming shook the walls.

Not even then, because Dean knew, knew like only an older brother could, that this time he had gone too far.

With shoulders ever-heavy with the weight of the world, Dean slumped into the nearest wooden chair, head in his hands, and his sigh leaving him with nothing but the headache pounding his brain and Sam's words like daggers in his heart.

~8~

Gabriel had a problem. Not like that one time in the 3rd century. That was merely a prank gone slightly wrong. That was nothing, _nothing_ compared to the Empire State Building of a problem he had now.

Gabriel was _happy_.

Words could not begin to even cover the severity of this issue.

Over the millennia that he had existed, Gabriel had felt a lot of things: frustration, anger, loneliness, excitement, pride, and flirtatious but never, _never_ _actual happiness_. He couldn't even remember what happiness felt like but he was pretty sure it looked a hell of a lot like Samuel Winchester.

And that, of course, scared the _freakin' _bah-_loney_ outta him.

The way he saw it, Gabe had on only one path of existence since daddy dearest flew the coup, and it was a lonely one. An _alone_ one. He was on his own for a reason, he'd run away with his tail between his legs and sure, maybe now he was helping out Team Free Will in the pissing contest that was Mike and Lucy's attempt at an apocalypse, but that didn't even begin to scrape away the grime of his cowardice. Because that's what it was, running away, it was cowardice. Then he'd thought it was emancipation. Though, then at least the only person he'd been hurting was himself.

Now there was Sam.

Gabriel was the worst kind of masochist; he unintentionally hurt others with him. Sam didn't deserve that kind of baggage, hell, the kid had _more _than enough. Sam didn't deserve the damaged goods that was Gabriel. So, there was really only one thing to decide.

Did he stick around long enough to say goodbye?

~8~

Castiel had a predicament. As with most of his predicaments of late, it involved Dean Winchester. Well, revolved around to be precise.

The issue was that the longer he was with Dean, the less he was able to control his (steadily more and more confusing) emotions in regards to the hunter, the more Dean was in danger in the traceable presence of a "rebelling" angel, and the worse the charged atmosphere between them got.

It simultaneously created fog in his mind and added more pressure in his chest.

Losing pieces of his Grace everyday made him more and more human and something he had come to understand was that humans, so unlike angels, experienced _everything._ It was as if Castiel had been existing with blinders, ear and nose plugs, and wrapped in plastic. It was different experiencing the mortal plane as something other than an angel, to say the least.

It was sensory overload. Colours leaking, sounds sneaking, sensations squeezing through the carefully constructed angelic barricade. Humanity was sometimes predictable, it would never give up, it would always find a way inside; it was inevitable.

Very much like the outcome of Castiel's predicament. And it was this, more than anything, that had a song swelling in the air around him, had his wings take him to Dean, but keep him cloaked. Because sometimes, like the issues of the heart, the words needed to be said most were not heard by those who needed to hear them.

(Warning: Destiel feels imminent. Prepare for thunderstorms. Read/sing at own risk.)

_You still carry your Hell inside_

_You keep pretending, but you just can't hide_

_I know I said I'd be standing by your side_

_But I_

Castiel sighed. Dean was on the couch, feet propped up on some books (probably the ones he was _meant _to be reading), and watching television. It was nice to see him like this, like he used to. To watch him unhurried, to take in every detail, every curve of lip, every smattering of freckles, every surface, plane, and crevasse that he had rebuilt. Now Dean always seems to notice his stares and became agitated or aggravated. Castiel tilted his head, silently regarding his human.

_Your paths unbeaten and it's all uphill_

_And you can meet it but you never will_

_There's a reason that you're standing still_

_But I_

He absently pulled at the cuffs of his coat. His sorrow and frustration manifested themselves in the crease between his brow and the down-turned corners of his lips.

_I wish I could say the right words to lead you through this land_

_Wish I could be the lover and take you by the hand_

_Wish I could stay here but now I understand_

_I'm standing in the way_

Castiel didn't fidget. Though through exposure or osmosis he had picked up characteristics. And of course, they're all Dean's. Even so, he barely caught himself before he was running his fingers through his hair.

_The cries inside you, they make you fall_

_Because you're broken, you can barely crawl_

_So you'll just lie there when you should be standing tall_

_But I_

Regret pulsed within Castiel's veins like blood, it seeped into his Grace, and spread to his heart. Unconsciously, he moved forwards, breaths from the hunter who stared straight through him to the television screen behind.

_I wish I could lay your arms down and let you rest at last_

_Wish I could smite your demons but you cling to your past_

_Wish I could stay here, your stalwart standing fast_

_But I'm standing in the way_

_I'm just standing in the way._

It was now or never. He could either stay with Dean, increase his chances of being in danger or leave and continue the fight at a safe distance. But first he had to say the words that burned as bright as Grace.

Stealing himself, Cas made himself corporeal, summoned the words and courage, and was promptly interrupted by the man himself, "Castiel, mind moving your feathery ass? You're standing in the way of Dr. Sexy."

Castiel, with his limited human emotional knowledge, was pretty sure that this was what it felt like for the heart to metaphorically break.

~8~

Sam made sure the door slammed so hard he heard the groaning protest of its hinges. The anger that had been burrowing beneath his skin and spreading like hellfire had dissipated, leaving behind only trails of ash and a familiar deep-seated ache – the one that came with things like _John _and _Dean _and _Jess_. A masochistic dichotomy of guilt, betrayal, and sadness that seemed to crowd him like pouring rain. Sighing, he moved to the window and watched as Gabe and Cas sat talking on the Impala, and something seemed to swell in his chest. It started low in his stomach then moved higher and higher, a kind of uncomfortable heat, and before he knew it sombre guitar chords were in the very air around him and lyrics were falling from his lips.

(Sasquatch feels. Also, plot twist imminent.)

_Does anybody notice? _He backed away from the window and ran a shaky hand through his hair.

_Does anybody even, care?_

In the sudden stillness, Sam turned on the spot and amidst the violent crescendo of screeching violins and extreme close-ups, a demon stood smirking across the room.

"But more of that and on," it murmured, voice like acidic velvet. Sam's rather clever brain barely had time to register that this was no ordinary demon before he was engulfed with black smoke and the world faded to a distant memory.

~8~

* * *

My first cliffhanger! It's like a rite of passage, right? Now I can join the Cool Writers Club, yes?

As always, I would love love _love_ to hear from you guys. Stay tuned! xx


	7. Standing Under Your Mojo

Hello my lovelies! Hope you're all well! Thanks for sticking with me!

Warnings: Feels. Lots.

Disclaimer: manipulation of lyrics.

* * *

~8~

"Sup little bro," Gabe drawled from his current position on the bonnet of the Impala. Castiel's pretty certain if Dean saw him he would 'deep fry his wings extra crispy'. Nevertheless, he too found himself seeking solace atop the roof of the beloved vehicle.

"I am leaving, and seeing as you've been here for at least an hour staring at Sam's window without actually going up there, I hypothesise you are too."

Gabriel rolled his eyes, "oh look, Captain Obvious Cassie-the-oblivious made an observation!" Castiel almost smiled. But it was a sad and small thing, a newborn leaf burned by the too-hot sun before it'd had the chance to grow.

Silence filled the spaces between them and the inevitable lapped at them like waves upon the sand.

(Warning: broken hearts if you continue on this reading path.)

_I'm under your mojo,_

_Dad how can this be?_

_An archangel and "mud monkey"?_

Gabriel's voice was sweet and soft, very much what one would expect of the Herald. It lilted and swayed like a willow's branches in a sweet September breeze.

_You _know_ I don't do _this_ well!_

_Sammy, don't you see?_

_It'll never work with me._

_I'm sorry you believe._

Gabe put his head in his hands and Castiel toned in with a deep and solemn, _believe me I don't want to go._

Gabriel looked up at Sam's window and Castiel looked towards the door of Bobby's house, beyond which he could _feel_ Dean's soul pulsing. Together their voices flowed like a river over pebbles.

_And it'll grieve me 'cause I love you so_

Even as their voices took the different paths with different words, their song joined them together: two angels who would always give up everything for their humans.

(Cas, left and Gabe, right.)

_Wish I could say – Wish I could trust_

_The right words and lead – That it would just be lust_

_You through this land – but I must do what I must_

_Wish I could be the lover and – I can't adjust to all your trust_

_Take you by the hand – And I just_

_Wish I could stay_

_Wish I could stay_

_Wish I could stay_

_Wish I could_

_Stay_

The sun dipped below the horizon and the two angels bathed in the last dying rays of its light. Perhaps the last they'd ever see.

(Don't give me that look, you _were_ warned.)

Gabriel took one last mournful glance up at Sam's window, nodded once to Cas' offered "peace be with you, brother," and vanished in a flap of wings.

~8~

* * *

As always please let me know your thoughts! And thanks again to all who favourited/alerted! You guys keep me going! :) xx


	8. What You Feel

Two chapters in one day.. Again! Hope you know how lucky you all are! :) xx

Warnings: None that I know of? idek these characters just sort of go their own way and I'm more of a chaperone that they keep ditching.

Disclaimer: manipulations of lyrics, some quotes from the shows, and Twiddleston.

* * *

~8~

Sam awoke with the bitter taste of what must have been the demonic lovechild of sulfur and ass coating his tongue, and his mind had enough coherency to know that _everything_ was seriously wrong with that sentence. A dry cough clawed its way from his throat and he hazily reached for the water he always kept by his nightstand.

Except it wasn't there. The glass or the nightstand.

Shooting up from the metal slab he was lying on, he took mental inventory of the room: decay, wood and metal, and so not the place that Lucifer's vessel should be finding himself in right now.

He leapt from the table then stumbled back a few steps clutching his head. Whatever mojo that demon had used on him, he hoped it never _ever_ happened again. It was like that time Dean convinced him to go for _just one more shot, come on Sammy._ For a moment, Sam actually hoped that was the case. And didn't _that _just show his desperation.

But, you know the Winchester luck. Or, more accurately the complete _lack there of._

Sam opened his eyes and was greeted by the sight of three average demons and what could only be the thing responsible for all the _Glee_ mania going on. He was tall, well the poor bastard he'd commandeered was, with skin like dark chocolate, eyes a disturbingly hypnotic swirl of fluorescent yellow and electric blue, and clad in a fine tailored three-piece suit.

The guy honestly looked like he'd just walked off the set of a Westwood commercial.

From seemingly nowhere, a suave jazz began to play, all blues piano, soft and shivering drums to the beat of his heart, and the smooth crooning of a saxophone.

(Here we enter Bizzaroland. Enjoy)

_Why'd you wanna run away,_

_Don't you like my style?_

The demon ran a hand down his side with a nice soft shoe slide closer to Sam.

_Why don't you come and play,_

_I guarantee a great big smile! _

Sam could only stare in horror and a kind of morbid fascination as the demon pulled his mouth _off his face_, showed it's smile to Sam, and put it back on.

_I'm the heart of swing,_

_I'm the twist and shout._

The guy was like a bizarre mix of Will Smith, Elvis, and Patrick Swayze. Sam felt himself pulled by the invisible current of the demon's charisma.

_When you gotta sing,_

_When you gotta let it out._

_I come a-runnin', _

_I turn the music on - I bring the fun in,_

_Now where partying - that's what it's all about._

He pulled off a nice MJ twist, pulled a hat out of nowhere, flipped it up his arm, and lowered it over his forehead. Sam could just see his pupil-less eyes as they stared up at him beneath thick lashes and the hats brim with something akin to a cat looking at a mouse between its paws.

_'Cause I know what you feel boy,_

_I know just what you feel boy._

Sam balked at that. The demon winked then continued.

_All these melodies,_

_They go on too long. _

_Then that energy,_

_Starts to come on way too strong!_

One of his minions, seemingly out of thin air, brought forward what looked like a banker dancing a furious tap.

_All those hearts laid open - that must sting,_

_Plus some customers just start combusting._

Smoke had begun to rise off the banker, and before Sam could even think of how to help, flames licked their way outward from his chest until the rolling tongues consumed him.

_That's the penalty,_

_When life is but a song!_

The charred corpse vanished, leaving behind the scorched silhouette on the floor and the all-too-familiar stench that never ceased to sting Sam's nose. He tried to swallow the bile that had risen in his throat.

_I came down and doomed this town,_

_So when we say goodbye?_

_Back we will go to my kingdom below,_

_And you will be my guy. _

_'Cause I know what you feel, boy._

Panic, sheer bloody panic flashed through Sam, and he chimed in too, unconsciously jazz-hands-ing the demon in his attempt to convey _all_ the nopes.

_No you see,_

_You and me,_

_Wouldn't be very legal_

Sam visibly gulped as the demon leered closer, _and I make it real, boy._

Sam coughed and shook his head vigorously.

_What I mean,_

_Me and Dean,_

_We just don't deal with evil._

The demon gave him a _really _look and an ironic smile before he threw his head back and tapped his foot to the deep bass beat.

_I can bring whole cities to ruin,_

_And still have time to get a soft shoe in._

Sam shifted ever so slightly and pointed his thumbs at the door.

_Well that's great,_

_But I'm late,_

_And right now he's not my fan._

The demon circled closer, cutting off Sam's escape route, and kept the beat with his, Sam _had_ to admit, rather talented tapping feet.

_Somethin's cooking - I'm at the griddle,_

_I bought Nero his very first fiddle!_

Sam's face scrunched in consternation. He may as well just come out with it.

_He'll get pissed, _

_If I'm missed,_

_See my bro's the Righteous Man._

The demon stuttered to a stop, the music vanished with a snap, and a slow smile spread across his face. Sam internally groaned.

"You," he pointed to one of the henchman, "fetch the brother. Give him the one ultimatum he can't refuse." He turned back to Sam and pulled him towards him with his demonic power. Sam shuddered as he ran a single scorched and gnarled finger down his cheek.

_Now were partying, _

_That's what it's all about._

With a flourish and a sizzle, the lights flickered, and the demon's jazz number finished with one final lonesome sax note and a Supersized Sam Sigh.

~8~

There's the sound of wings, the gust of air, but no 'hello' as usual Dean thinks bitterly, just "Robert, your abode reeks of the scent of demon."

Bobby snorted, "sure it's not our resident King-of-Hell-wannabe over there?"

Crowley's head shot up from where he had been studiously playing Angry Birds. "Hey!"

Castiel actually rolled his eyes. "No, it is less repugnant."

Crowley glowered at him before stating flatly, "Well, this place probably always smells of demon lately, worry about it later. Anyway, looks like you got something other than that stick up your feathery behind, so spit it out."

Castiel acted as if Crowley hadn't spoken (everyone else usually did anyway.) "Yes, I have matters of great import that I must discuss with you. Earlier, we were concerned with consequences of the extemporary singing and dancing – and I believe I have found it." Castiel moved further into the room, wrinkled his nose slightly, and continued on, "your local authorities have found several human bodies that appear to have been burned in a fire, yet no fires have been reported."

Bobby frowned and turned to Dean, "didn't you boys mention something about that earlier? Bodies being burnt up? Somebody or something set people on fire?" Glancing around he continued, "And just where has that brother of yours got to anyway?"

Dean's frown, if possible, seemed to deepen, and for a moment he looked every bit of his 70 odd years.

"I don't know. One more verse of our little ditty and I would've been looking for a gas can." Crowley's muttering went mostly unheard, except for a glare from Bobby, to which he maturely replied with sticking out his tongue.

"These were no ordinary fires or remains. The origin of these fires resided _within_ the corpse." To the silence and raised eyebrows that met his words, Castiel clarified, "they spontaneously combusted."

Dean, pointedly _not _looking at Cas, said, "okay, but we're sure that the things are related: the singing and dancing, and burning and dying."

Castiel winced, barely, but Dean caught it, because no matter what was between them, they always saw, even if they weren't quite sure _what_ it was they saw. It was all very confusing. "Yes."

Before anyone could say anything else, there was another flap of wings, and there stood Gabriel, demon in tow. The archangel snapped his fingers and the demon teleported to the middle of the room so that he was not only surrounded by Cas, Dean, Bobby, Crowley, and Gabriel, but beneath a devil's trap as well.

"Found him wandering around. Apparently they've been learning new tricks down in the pit!" He turned to the demon he had grasped by the scruff of the neck, "But that's all they are, just tricks, and I would know. Merely low level temporal shifts. You got nothing on me baby." Apparently realising he was still in a room of people, Gabriel turned his attention back to its current occupants and said, "Was gonna smite him, but said he had a message for the Righteous Man."

Suddenly the air split with the sudden swell of music: violins, cellos, flutes, harps, snare drums, and more–

"We have Samuel Winchester. Dean Winchester must come to get him from warehouse 39 at the end of town alone or Samuel will be taken to Hell with my master and most likely die." The demon stated flatly.

It was all quite anti-climatic.

"Sam's in trouble?" Dean sighed. "Must be a Tuesday."

Gabriel grinned like the Cheshire Cat, "nope, because then _you'd _be dead."

"So, what?" Crowley scoffed, "Tweedledee gets moose-napped and you morons are all too busy to notice? How is that even possible? The guy's a blooming Sasquatch and you're all practically joined at the hip!"

"You watch your tongue demon breath or I'll wash your mouth out with salt." Dean pointed menacingly at Crowley, who rolled his eyes.

The messenger demon heaved a long-suffering sigh worthy of _Les Miserables_. "So, you'll be there then. Can I go now?" Like some petulant demonic adolescent, he examined his nails then leveled a thoroughly bored stare at Dean.

"Sure," Gabriel said, while he cracked the devil's trap. The others looked on with expressions of varying degrees of confusion and anger. However, just as the demon began to whistle while he walked, Gabe reached for his forehead and beamed, "Loki'd!" as he burned the demon and its vessel to cinders.

With a grimace, Bobby noted wryly, "We need a plan."

~8~

* * *

Again, hope you all enjoyed! Next chapters underway as we, erm, write? As always I would love love LOVE to hear from you guys! Thanks again for reading! :) xx


	9. Walk Through the Fire

And here's what I shall leave with you over the weekend! Thank you to all my new lovlies including Guest and Cjabbott for your kind words and alerts! On with the show!

Warnings: MOAR FEELS.

Disclaimer: manipulations of lyrics, Joss' eggcellent script, characters feelings, um I think that's all?

Enjoy my lovelies xx

* * *

~8~

Gabriel's voice shattered the tension steadily building in the room. "He has to go." Of course he had to go. Dean was Sam's big brother, he would be fine, and it was the only way to get Sam back. They could storm the place after Dean had made initial contact, no big deal. The guy had been to Hell for him, so it's not like it could be any _worse_. Well. Right?

Dean rolled his eyes and Bobby's glare was worthy of a Gorgon's.

"I agree with the pigeon, although it is stupid to just play into the guy's hands." To the rather stunned silence that followed Crowley's statement, which sounded suspiciously like he cared, he raised his brows at them, "what? Without those morons I'm doubly screwed! At least with them I have some mediocre protection and leverage."

Bobby beard quivered with rage and Dean prepared himself for the worst. "Cas, tell him this is dumb. You can't allow this!"

Cas remained silent, eyes straight ahead and back taut.

It was the final betrayal for Dean. "He doesn't have to 'allow' anything." With that, he stormed outside to his Baby, leaving the myriad of exasperated, furious, and guilty faces in his wake.

Bobby made to follow Dean but Castiel put a hand on his shoulder. The hunter sent him a look of pure acid and shook him off violently before stomping to the kitchen. Cas sighed heavily, his hand still hanging in the air. Crowley let out a snort of laughter, "you've really done it now Romeo."

Gabriel flew to the roof and watched as Dean pulled out of the Singer Salvage Yard and rumbled down the highway.

The sky was a swath of obsidian that some rich bastard had just carelessly scattered a few diamonds across because he could. Sticky warmth pressed down upon Dean's skin despite the air's frigidity as he marched to the Impala. Sliding into the leather confines he felt none of the usual relief but more a kind of weary sense of duty. There was no connection, no passion, no sense of anything other than that this was the _right thing to do_.

And once again he was running out of time.

His Baby roared beneath him and the opening chords to a song began playing. For the first time in Winchester/Impala history, the music was not from the cassette tapes.

(Fair warning, multiple musical parts and feels.

Concentration is the key to clarity.

Think West Side Story meets Wicked, but... with man feels.)

_I touch the fire and it freezes me,_

_I look into it and it's black._

_Why can't I feel? My skin should crack and peel!_

_I want the fire back._

Dean's fingers whitened on the steering wheel.

_Now through the smoke he calls to me,_

_To make my way across the flames._

_To save the day? Or maybe melt away?_

_I guess it's all the same._

Nostrils flared, Dean shook his head vehemently and kept his eyes on the road. He would do this, always would. It was all he had left.

_So I will walk through the fire,_

_Coz where else can I turn?_

_I will walk through the fire and let it– _

Gabriel felt a pull on his Grace and before he knew it he was singing, his breath a clouded mist before his eyes.

_The torch I bear is scorching me,_

_Demon's laughing, I've no doubt._

He kicked a wayward branch and watched it skid across Bobby's roof. _I hope he fries, I'm free if that bitch dies!_

He sighed then shook his head. _…I better help Dean-o out._

At the warehouse, the demon took a firm stance and belted out _'cause he is drawn to the fire, some people–_

Back at the house, Bobby paced furiously in the kitchen, unknowingly singing with the demon, _Dean will never learn. And he will walk through the fire and let it– _

Castiel turned his eyes to the ceiling and unconsciously drew his coat closer around him.

_Can I just, stay this stranger?_

_Am I leaving Dean in danger?_

_Is my hunter too far gone to care?_

Bobby came back to the living room, walked right up to Cas and gripped his upper arm, urgency tainting his lyrics, _what if Dean can't defeat it?_

Crowley moved from the couch where he was folding his kerchief and chimed in, _Hobbit's right, you are needed._

But at the looks he received from both Cas and Bobby he shrugged, _or you could just sit around and glare._

Cas began with _we'll see it through_, soon joined by Bobby, who threw a meaningful glare in Crowley's direction_, it's what we're _all_ here to do_. Rolling his eyes, the demon reluctantly sang along, _so we will walk through the fire._

The Impala flew along the highway like lightening but for Dean it was nothing he hadn't seen before. The aching loneliness and disconnection that had been hollering from the depths of his mind, next door to the _don't go there's_, seemed only to grow.

_So one by one they turn from me,_

_I guess they just can't face the cold._

Castiel pressed his hand to the window in front of Bobby's house, searching for that bright soul that seemed to just slip between his fingers. His voice reached into the dark, _what can't we face–_

Dean frowned at the windshield of the Impala, oblivious to the very familiar handprint currently frozen in misted breath on his window. He cracked his neck, _but why I froze, only one among them knows._

Castiel pulled back, tracking Dean's location, and continued helping the others, now joined by Gabriel, as they collected supplies and ammunition. The words burned his throat, _–when we're together?_

Dean's jaw tightened and he shook himself. There was only one way this was going to end. _The rest cannot be told_.

Bobby loaded some more salt rounds, grabbed a machete, and stuffed it and two shotguns into his duffle. He paused and his mouth pulled into a frown as the lyrics fell from his lips. _Dean came from the grave much graver._

Gabriel angrily spat out _first he'll kill him, then I'll save him_ as he snapped his fingers and stuck the lollipop that had just materialized into his mouth with unnecessary force.

Castiel watched the sky with a stillness Michelangelo's statues would be jealous of. His lyrics were almost murmured to himself, _everything is turning out so dark_.

Dean shifted down a gear, checked his rear mirror, and continued down the street to the warehouse's district. He was only a block away now but he was still _going through the motions_.

Gabriel shook his head, his lips twitched into an almost smile, _no I'll _save_ him, _then_ I'll kill him._

Crowley crossed his arms over his chest when Bobby motioned that the demon should help with arsenal packing and instead sang, _I think this line's mostly filler_. Bobby rolled his eyes and actually dragged the demon over by his ear.

Back at the warehouse, Sam tried not to show his apprehension, tried not to let the demon get to him. But the guy had this aura about him as he closed his eyes and lifted his head into the air like a dog catching a scent. Sam would bet money it wasn't just the odor of the industrial machinery around them. The demon's lyrics certainly added a healthy dose of foreboding to the already boiling-over mixture of anxiety in the pit of Sam's stomach.

_But what they find, ain't what they had in mind._

_It's what the have inside._

The demon's wicked smile was back as he opened his eyes and lowered his head back to Sam's level. _He will come to me_.

The Impala's purr stilled beneath Dean. Sparing a brief glance for the outside, he walked towards the warehouses side door, feeling more and more like a man on death row heading towards Mr. Sparky. _These endless days are finally ending in a blaze, and we are– _

They were a chorus of voices, a symphony of misfits and miscellaneous: a falling angel, an old drunk, a wannabe king of hell, a wayward archangel, and a broken human, all hearts beating the same thunderous tattoo, a rapid rhythmic rapping against their (occasionally borrowed slash stolen) ribcages.

_–Caught in the fire, the point of no return._

_So we will walk through the fire,_

_And let it,_

_Burn._

_Let it burn, let it burn,_

_Let it burn!_

~8~

"It's a waste of time. Dean's not stupid."

"Oh please, _everyone_ knows about the Winchesters."

"That doesn't mean–"

The sound of thunder and the splintering of wood interrupted Sam as the door to the warehouse flew off its hinges.

The demon's slimy grin threatened to take over his face. "You were saying."

* * *

Yeees, another cliffie! Couldn't resist! But more of that and on from whenst I returneth!

As always, please let me know your thoughts/constructive critiques/holy praise/social security numbers/etc! Love to you my lovelies and thanks for sticking with my story so far! xx


	10. Something To Sing About

Allo, allo! Dearest lovelies, you were so kind last chapter(s)! All those alerts and sweet reviews gosh! You honestly all just made my year!

Warnings: Um, sass? idek.

Disclaimer: manipulations of quotes, lyrics, and feels for context.

* * *

~8~

"So glad you could join us," the demon drawled. Sam had to give it to him, Dean could pull off a serious swagger – he strolled into the warehouse like he freaking _owned_ the place. He couldn't resist a grin at his brother's audacity, and despite their fight earlier; there was no one in the world he'd rather see.

Dean completely ignored the demon. "You alright Sammy?" His eyes quickly catalogued the situation: four demons total and Sam in the thick of them. They'd had worse odds. Of course, those odds never included the threat of going _Disney_ halfway through a fight. Still.

Sam rolled his eyes and sighed, "Yes Dean, but really you shouldn't have–"

The demon cut him off, eyes glued to Dean. "Loved your entrance. _Very_ *Tarantino."

Sam did a double take. Was he, was he _flirting_?

Dean didn't miss a beat. Smirking, he cocked his head, "how are you with death scenes?"

Yes, definitely flirting.

The demon's grin only grew. He leaned forward and winked. "Oh _very_ *McTiernan."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Right, so *Stephen Sondheim and Minions, here's how this goes. Either you release my brother or die."

The demon looked condescendingly disappointed. "Come now Dean, is that really necessary?"

Dean shrugged. "You know, you're right. I'm gonna gank you anyway. So the _real_ question is how you wanna play this: hard or _really_ hard?"

"Isn't that what you should be asking that angel friend of yours? Or is he too busy _abandoning_ you?" Dean's hands clenched into impossibly tight fists at his side, then suddenly released, like it was nothing. Sam frowned, the noticed the telltale twitch that meant Dean was trying so very hard to act like nothing was wrong. He should be able to tell by now considering Dean had looked like that for the last few weeks. Well, months if he thought about it. The demon continued, smiling through razor sharp pearly whites, "You know, that seems to be a bit of a pattern when it comes to you and your relationships." He was basically puting a stick dripping in kerosene into a wildfire and he knew it.

Dean glowered. Sam swore he heard a growl emanating from Dean's chest. "Fine you wanna deal? Here's your deal. I can't kill you, I take his place and you and I skip down the bloody red road and shack up in Hellsville."

The demon took a moment, as if actually considering Dean's offer, rolling it around on his tongue before flinging his counter back at Dean. "And if I kill you?"

"Then that's your consolation prize, so Sammy walks out scot-free. Nothing changes." Dean's face remained sickeningly blank. Sam's heart constricted at the sight.

The demon leaned back on his heels and crossed his arms. "Well, ain't that a ray of sunshine."

Dean didn't even blink. "That's life."

The beginnings of a cat-that-ate-an-entire-cage-of-canaries smile slowly crawled across the demon's lips. "Come now, is that all life is to you? Is that really _what you_ _feel_?"

And Dean felt it all right, that beginning, that inability to stop the words bubbling in his chest rising to a boil and spilling over his lips.

(You thought there were surprises in the Book of Revelations?

Them revelations got _nothing_ on these babies.

Warnings: angst, _angst_, ANGST, and… fluff?)

_Life's a show and well all play our parts,_

_And when the music starts,_

_We open up our hearts._

Dean strolled further into the room, seemingly oblivious to the demon's minions steadily forming a loose ring around him. But Sam knew better. Dean was drawing them out and away from Sam. Maybe everything would be ok, if he could somehow move, but the demon's mojo held fast, and made it impossible for Sam to even twitch a pinky. Dean was on his own. Again.

_It's alright if something comes up wrong_

_We'll sing a happy song,_

_And you can sing along._

Dean shucked his jacket off his shoulders and into the face of an oncoming demon, punched it once, twice, then kicked it so hard in the stomach that when it fell it slid several feet across the floor.

_Where there's life, there's hope,_

_Every day's a gift,_

Another minion rushed him. Ripping an iron chain off its hook, Dean practically lassoed it around the minion's throat and yanked it towards him. Choking, the thing could barely register anything as Dean wrapped the rest of the chain around its body and kicked it over to the other minion. Two down, one to go.

_Wishes can come true,_

_Whistle while you work,_

The last minion looked from Dean to its master then back before smoking out of its body. Sam didn't blame it.

_So hard, all day –– _

At that moment, the door would have been thrown open once again had it not already been off its hinges, and Cas, Bobby, Gabriel, and Crowley stormed in. (Well, Crowley sort of wandered but, anyway.) Dean seemed to be at war with himself for a second before once again lyrics found their way between his lips.

_To be like other guys,_

_And fit in, in this goddamn world's eyes_

He glared at the demon, who had the nerve to tip his hat.

_Don't give me songs. _Dean pointed threateningly at demon,_ don't give me songs._

He spread his arms out in the quintessential Dean Winchester "come get me" gesture, and despite the situation, Sam rolled his eyes.

_Give me something to sing about! _He thumped his chest twice then pointed at the demon again. _I need something to sing about! _

Unconsciously, Dean drew nearer and nearer the demon, completely enthralled despite all the fight he was putting up.

_Life's a song you don't get to rehearse,_

_And every single verse,_

_Can make it that much worse._

Almost face-to-face with the demon now, Sam realised Dean had put himself between the demon and everyone else, including Sam himself.

Singing his next lines, Dean gestured outward vaguely toward the rest of Team Free Will.

_Still these guys don't know why I ignore,_

_The million things or more,_

_I should be dancing for._

He sang as though his words were about the weather or needing petrol or tying one's shoelace. It was vaguely terrifying and Sam had to actively try to stop wincing after every verse.

_All the joy?_ _Life ends._

_Family and friends,_

_All the twists and bends,_

_Knowing that it ends,_

_Well that depends ––_

_On if they let you go,_

_On if they know enough to know,_

_That when you vow,_

_You leave the crowd._

Dean looked like he was about to stop and suddenly Sam had hope that he could overpower this, if he could only–

That was until the demon slowly flicked his fingers at Dean, as if somehow coaxing the lyrics from him. Dean was at his mercy. He stared at nothing, or perhaps everything, as the words wormed their way through his lips.

_There was only pain,_

_Fear and doubt,_

_Till he pulled me out,_

_Of Hell._

Sam winced. He should have known. He looked to Gabriel but he wouldn't meet his eyes. Crowley watched on with morbid fascination. Strangely Sam wasn't surprised to see the lone tear slowly falling down Bobby's cheek and disappearing into his beard.

Castiel watched on in silent vigil, still and stoic. The image added another crack to Sam's heart.

_So that's my refrain,_

_I still live this Hell,_

_Coz I've been expelled,_

_From what's deserved._

Dean shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

The last was murmured almost to himself yet it still seemed to paint itself on the walls and shout itself from the rooftops in the deathly silence that followed.

_I know it was deserved._

Shaking himself, anger once again at war with utter anguish on his face, Dean next words were hoarse and directed at the demon, who merely stood there with a small self-satisfied smile on his face.

_So give me something to sing about!_

_Please, I need something ––_

Dean broke off and, almost robotically, his head snapped up and he began to dance. Chaotic and uneven, his movements were more like uncontrollable spasms then dancing. It was then as he began to turn on the spot and sweat slid like rain from Dean's forehead. The room seemed to freeze and the others could only watch on with bodies congealed in frozen horror as smoke rose from his jacket.

Dean was burning and there was nothing they could do.

He was going to die.

Again.

Castiel shot forward, somehow breaking away from the demon's hypnotic and immobilizing mojo. Latching onto the blurred tornado that was Dean, his hand found its mark on Dean's shoulder and his other wrapped around the back of Dean's neck, ensuring the hunter be looking nowhere else except the two huge oceans staring back at him. Castiel's deep voice soothed the frenzy and the smoke seemed to dissipate as quickly as it had come.

_Life's not a song,_

_Life isn't bliss; life is just this,_

_It's living._

Castiel pulled their bodies closer, chests and hips touching, lips barely breaths apart.

_You'll get along,_

_The pain that you feel, only can heal,_

_By living,_

_You have to go on living,_

Cas rested their foreheads together. Both shut their eyes as they breathed the other in, the closeness, the safety, the beatings of their hearts finding the rhythm of the other's and finally coming home.

_So together we'll be living. _

It… was truly something to behold. A falling angel and the righteous man. They couldn't have been closer if they opened their ribcages and merged their hearts. It was so, dare it be said of a Winchester, but it _was_ strangely beautiful. So breathtaking in amongst the anarchy of the situation, an eye of a storm, that everyone else quite forgot about the demon.

Well, until he started clapping.

* * *

There were are my lovelies! Another one bites the dust! Only one more to go I think. Well, that would be were the episode ends, in one more chapter, but I think just because I love you all so much I'll think up an epilogue and wrap this baby like christmas! Au revoir till next time! xx

*If you don't know who Quentin Tarantino is then _dishonour on you, your family, and your cow!_

_*_John McTiernan directed_ "Die Hard" _guys, come on!

*Stephen Sondheim (if you don't know then SHAME on you) is an American composer and lyricist, best known for his amazing musicals _"Company"_, _"Sweeney Todd"_, and _"Into the Woods"_. He also did lyrics for _"West Side Story"._


	11. Reprise & Where Do We Go From Here

Dearest lovlies! Hope you're all still out there, not much response on my last chapter so I really hope it was ok! Thanks also to Murder-of-the-Night, definitely the reaction I wanted!

Warnings: a healthy dose of passion and feels, shaken not stirred.

Disclaimer: the usual. Teeny tiny manipulation of dialogue and lyrics to fit with context. I own nothing. My soul is just an empty cavern with the graffiti _Crowley Waz Ere_.

On with the show!

* * *

~8~

"Now that was a show-stopping number, though not _quite_ the fireworks I had in mind."

"Go back to whatever Hell you came from or I'll send you there myself." The growl came from Bobby's chest. Crowley looked on, impressed.

"Oh come now, big smiles everyone." The demon paused, gave a small indulgent smile, and shrugged, "You beat the bad guy."

Once again, the debonair jazz hummed throughout the room and the demon crooned his reprise.

_What a lot of fun, _

_You guys have been real swell._

_And there's not a one who can say, _

_This ended well! _

_All those secrets, _

_You've been concealing, _

_Say you're happy now, _

_Once more with feeling. _

_Now I gotta run, _

_See you all, _

_In hell!_

With one final flourish that had the lights once again flickering, the demon looked like he was about to smoke out of his meet-suit when Gabriel stepped forward and held up his hand. The demon choked but stayed put, glowering. Gabriel's face was terrifyingly blank. Castiel stepped forward with his brother, his voice toneless. "You will be the example."

"The example of what, angel boy?" The tinge of annoyance betrayed his supposed nonchalance and smugness.

"Of what happens when you "mess" with our Winchesters." With that, Castiel and Gabriel pressed both palms to the demon's forehead and managed to warn everyone else to close their eyes before they burned both the demon and his already very dead vessel into nothing but a few wisps of smoke and a couple of dust motes.

The silence fell like the curtain, but too soon, too sudden, and left all feeling bereft, still reeling from their recent debuts.

"Anyone else still feel like that demon's mojo's running through their system?" Bobby rumbled.

Crowley frowned, "Yes, how do you reckon we're supposed to––"

Sam, picking at his fingers, interrupted and sang softly _where do we go from here? _

Dean and Castiel had yet to let go of one another's eyes and merely murmured _where do we go from here?_

Gabriel tried not to go directly to Sam. Instead he shrugged and sang _the battle's done, and we kinda won,_

Castiel, finally looking away from Dean, joined his brother and sang,_ so we sound our victory cheer?_ _Where do we go from here?_

Bobby, looking thoroughly grouchy, and Crowley who looked bored out of his brain sang gruffly _why is the path unclear?_

Sam looked at Dean and they both harmonized, _is there no hope left near?_

Somehow unconsciously they had gravitated to the centre of the room and formed a line – Dean, Castiel, Sam, Gabriel, Crowley, and Bobby – and one by one on their next line, _understand we'll go hand in hand,_ they took each other's hand before letting go as if they'd been burned and dispersing around the room on _but we still walk alone in fear._

Sam looked at Gabe, who finally met his eyes, and sang almost desperately _tell me!_ Walking over to him, Gabriel turned to meet him, and together they sang _where do we go from here?_

All were singing _when does the end appear, _when Dean suddenly stopped. "Screw this!" He muttered before he fled through the doorway. The others continued on as if he never left. All except Castiel.

_When do the trumpets cheer?_

_The curtains close, on a kiss god knows,_

_We can tell the end is near!_

_Where do we go from here?_

Shaking, Dean came to an abrupt halt outside the warehouse. His heart was thundering sickeningly in his chest and the world had the eerie tinge that accompanied déjá vu. He could still hear them through the walls, their voices like footfalls echoing in the cavernous and chaotic space inside his head. Empty. Nothing. Except when–

The sound of wings yanked him unceremoniously from his head. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the one rhythm he could usually trust.

_Bah-boom, bah-boom, bah-boom… _

Traitor.

"Dean." And that was it. One word, one syllable, one name, and it was as if he had waited his entire life just to hear it, as if all the pain, the death, the running, the searching, all of it was worth it for precisely this moment.

He turned and faced the angel, powerless in his hopelessness. Electric blue collided with forest green and the air practically smoked out of his lungs.

Really, who were they kidding?

(They never need an introduction.

Dean left, Cas right, centre both.)

_I touch the fire and it freezes me –– We've tried,_

Like magnets, they were drawn together, each small step they took closing the self-imposed canyon of _what if's_ and _maybe's _and _unsaid things_ between them.

_I look into it and it's black –– So many years to go._

Dean's eyes were wide with disbelief, as if he couldn't quite believe this was actually happening and it suddenly occurred to Castiel that he probably didn't. Since his mother, since his father, since Sam, since Hell, he had probably forgotten what it felt like. Happiness. Growing up he'd never let himself have it because he didn't think he deserved it, because he had responsibilities, because _people always left_. Castiel's certain his heart once again metaphorically broke just a little bit more as Dean's lyrics confirmed his thoughts.

_This can't be real. _

But it was because this, this was it. One of those moments that people said could change the course of the future, like not stepping on a grey fish as it pulled itself up a beach or sitting on a park bench in a would-be doomed town. These were the moments that mattered, sometimes small, sometimes insignificant at first, but always, _always_ pivotal.

Chest to chest, eyes unwavering, hearts in their throats.

_Please just let me –– I just want to _

_Feel!_

Their lips found each other and the sun could have risen and set the world on fire for all they knew was that this was _real_ Heaven. Their hands found waists and the back of necks and silk strands of hair. They breathed the other in, fingers trying to immerse themselves into skin, blood singing a siren's song, bodies flush against hard lines and angles.

The collision and explosion of their passion, want, and _need _crackled around them, and going by the sudden and violent _whoosh_, Dean figured if he opened his eyes right now they'd be blinded by the wings he's pretty sure just materialized. Didn't mean it wasn't tempting, though the growl in Cas' throat certainly let him know Cas knew _exactly_ what he was thinking. For once, he definitely didn't mind the angel's jedi mind tricks.

Mostly oblivious, except for the fact that every light in the warehouse suddenly blew and Crowley had to leave because of_ pigeon pixie dust_, the remaining three members of Team Free Will wrapped up this oddly fitting finale with the final lyrics and crescendo.

_Where do we go,_

_From here!_

~8~

* * *

There we have it my lovelies! End of the road!

...Kidding! I decided to whip up a nice epilogue to tie all those loose ends in a nice big manly bow!

Stay tuned! xx


	12. Epílogo

Here we are my lovelies! End of the line. Well, I hope you all enjoyed it as much as I have! Thanks oh so very much all your alerts and kind words, they made my world!

Warnings: slight time warp/spolier for like a 3 second scene in season 7. Also excuse my terrible Spanish!

Disclaimers: do I have to do this _again_? Just rub salt into my wounds why don't you.

* * *

~8~

"The strange phenomenon that gripped the world appears only to have be temporary. Scientists are still baffled but word has it that Spielberg has already begun drafting a script. Reports are still coming in of break-ups worthy of Taylor Swift, proposals Disney style, Beyoncé dance numbers in grocery stores, maths classes erupting into Broadway, and the viral video of the Politician turn YouTube Sensation singing a lengthy ballad to both his "treacherous, 'Obama-fied' home states Massachusetts and Michigan. In other news, authorities still have no leads on the gruesome serial arson cases that seem to have either abated or ceased completely. Continuing on from yesterdays report…"

Bobby snorted from where he was sprawled across the couch. Another supernatural catastrophe averted and the world continues bumbling on. Reaching for the slightly dusty glass bottle on the table in front of him, he wrapped his fingers around the neck and pulled it towards him. About to open it, his head shot up as the channel changed on the television. He frowned at the Spanish soap actors currently melodramatizing on his screen before he growled, "Crowley."

Said demon waltzed around the couch arm and plopped surprisingly gracefully on the pillow next to him. He was _far_ too close and _far_ too chipper for Bobby's liking, which could only mean one thing.

He was most _definitely _up to something.

"Oh I absolutely _love_ this part! Ricardo, having fooled everyone into thinking he was dead by staging the death of his evil twin Edwardo, comes back to his love Juanita only to find that she's _pregnant_ with Alejandro's baby except _he's _in love with Elvira, who's married to Julio but is _actually_ gay and having an affair with Miguel's _sister_, Ramona."

"You mean that _wasn't_ Ricardo who, you know, _suicido_?"

"Why don't you pop open that Single Malt Baby and we can find out by playing the age old game of 'let's watch the whole season in one night'? Whaddya say?" Out of nowhere, an antique crystal tumbler and the collector's box set of P_roblemas En El Paraíso _appeared. The demon's wicked grin seemed to stretch the entire landscape of his face.

"Deal."

"Best I've made all millennia. And here. We. Go!"

The clinking of glass and the occasional Spanish outburst was all that was heard from the two for the rest of the evening. The flicker of the TV lasted well into the early hours of the morning, though the soundtrack had changed from the occasional flamenco to a symphony of snores.

~8~

Gabriel materialized in Sam's room, grinning from ear to ear, and rocking on his heels. He was nervous, oh sweet baby Samandriel was he nervous. And Sam didn't look up at him, just continued tapping away at his computer in his lap. Yet, before he could even think of what to say, Sam spoke. "So, you back for good now or are you just going to go swanning off again?"

_Wow, ok, let's just cut to the chase then shall we?_ "Sam, look I'm sorry ok? I just, I, you know, I got –"

Sam was having none of it. His face was blank, voice deceptively calm, like the quiet and deadly still before the storm, like the world holding its breath. "You got scared. And you ran. Again."

Gabriel cringed. "Hey, that's not what – I didn't – I mean –"

He moved his laptop from his legs and stood, towering over the archangel in both physique and aura. Though sadness tainted his words, he spoke as if casually remarking about something obvious, like how blue the sky was or that Michael Bay liked gratuitous amounts of explosions. "You left me Gabe. Just up an' left without so much as a word. You just. Left."

"Sam, you don't understand –" Bad idea Gabe, really bad.

Sam's brows knitted, like the proverbial storm clouds coming together, voice like thunder, eyes like lightening. It shook Gabriel to the core sometimes just how beautiful Samuel Winchester really was. Yep, he was so done for.

Clearly when an Archangel 'fell' they fell _friggin' hard_.

"No Gabe, _you _don't understand. You don't get to just leave. You and me? We're in this together. Not as an archangel and a 'mud monkey' human or a trickster and a hunter but as two beings who belong by the other's side. So you don't _get_ to run, you don't _get_ to just leave, because wherever you go, I _will_ find you, no matter what. And so _help_ me Gabe, I will _drag_ your angelic ass back here if I have to comb every inch of this planet for the next thirty, forty, and fifty years."

Gabe's eyes were the colour of champagne, they sparkled, bubbled over, and then inhumanly strong arms were wrapped around Sam's neck, lips ascended to his, and Sam was instantly overwhelmed by honey and sunlight and warmth.

Sam was pretty sure a new memory had taken its rightful place on his Heavenly road and he knew he'd be quite happy to stay there for all eternity.

Later, in between bouts of intense 'fonduing', all that could be heard from Sam's bedroom upstairs was the occasional snort and (very manly, I _assure_ you) giggle, as Sam and Gabe had found the politician's video. Gabe laughed so hard he accidently materialized a cloud mountain of fair-floss next to the bed. 'Samantha' complained about having to wash his hair.

Well, until Gabe pointed out all of the_ benefits _of a shower.

~8~

The heat of the late afternoon sun sent beads of sweat down the rippling contours of Dean's back. Singlet slung over one shoulder instead of a rag; he finished up his tweaking of the Impala and closed her bonnet. Finding the proper polishing cloth, he set to work on making her glisten.

That was until he heard those familiar gusts of air and felt that intense gaze on every inch of his skin. Looking up and shielding his eyes from the last, but strong dying rays of sun with his forearm, he came face to face with a whole lot of cross-legged angel atop his Baby.

"Cas –"

"Could you lower your arm, please Dean." Gravel and velvet and earth and sky and crisp autumn leaves and sweet spring grass and cool crystal and molten lava and eternity manifested themselves in Cas' voice and Dean truly had to fight the urge to not just fall to his knees and worship this being.

Reeling in his mind, Dean did as the angel, _his_ angel asked, slowly so as to allow his eyes time to adjust to the sunburnt orange glow.

Bathed in the sun's light as he was now, Dean's skin glowed almost as brightly as his soul. Not that he knew that, of course. Though it was there, shinning through his eyes. Piercing, blessing, capturing, so clear and intense, vivid and raw. In all his eons, Castiel was quite sure he'd never seen anyone or anything as beautiful as Dean Winchester and he was fairly positive he never would.

"I am in love with you." A statement of fact. Simple in its infinite complexities and intricacies. Unadorned, straightforward, and undemanding, like Cas and exactly what Dean wanted, needed, loved.

Because that's what they had, their bond, their profoundness, it was their own kind of love. Stumbling, clumsy, and still learning like a child yet as effortless as breathing, as turning the first page of a new book. They had no idea what they were doing, but they did it together.

And that was really all that mattered.

~8~

And thus the curtains closed, as an Angel in a Dirty Trench Coat and a Righteous Man forged their profound bond anew, in a far more _'_biblical' sense, as an Old Drunk and a Wannabe King of Hell told the status quo to kindly go _joder _itself, and as an ex-Trickster Archangel and a Sasquatch Moose proved that it's _really _not the size that counts.

Although that certainly made things more interesting.

~FIN~

* * *

Please feel free to leave behind some thoughts and let me know if you enjoyed your stay in my brain for the past 12 or so chapters! :)

Epic thank you's to all who alerted/followed/favourited/reviewed! You guys are amazing and I'm so glad you liked my first attempt at an spn fic!

More fics are on the horizon, so stay tuned! I mean, you know, if you want...

xx


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